


call me when you’re sober

by raekentheory



Category: All American (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Canon Compliant, F/M, Might become a series as the show progresses, drugs and alcohol mention, making up my own backstory here, we’ll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 21:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raekentheory/pseuds/raekentheory
Summary: Asher can’t get that night out of his head. The one that they haven’t spoken about, and really should, considering. || canon-compliant interlude, just before the car scene in 1x02.





	call me when you’re sober

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted a thing and didn’t think I’d get it. Then the show delivered, and so of course my mind wandered. That’s... listen, I don’t have an explanation for this okay?
> 
> Unbeta’d and written at two in the morning while grasping at straws. All mistakes are my own damn fault.

_Text to O, 2:53 PM  
_ _can we meet up? need to talk_

Asher’s been staring at his own text for twenty minutes, second-guessing himself. He hasn’t texted her in weeks, let alone spoken to her. Not since she got out of rehab. Not since _before_ , really.

Not since… that night, at JJ’s house. The end of championships party, right as the school year came to a close.

He knows it should be hazy, that there was enough alcohol in his system, sprinkled with drugs, for it to be, but every time he thinks back and tries to picture it, it’s crystal clear.

* * *

Olivia, picture perfect in heels and a pretty dress, and high as a kite.

Jordan, trying to talk some sense into her and hitting a wall. Stomping off and venting to Asher on the terrace. Asking him to try and convince her to go home. After all, she’d always listened to him and Layla better than her own brother, and with her best friend having called it quits early because of a stomach bug, he was Jordan’s only shot. Something about little sisters stubbornly annoying their older brothers, which was lost on Asher, considering he was the one with an older sibling.

So Asher had gone to her, because he’d never been able to say no to Jordan, and he’d tried his best. He found her in the games room, tucked into the corner of a large, puffy couch. Her eyes wide and glassy, giggle keeping her afloat as she watched the dancing lights on an arcade machine in front of her. No one else had been in the room, and Asher had been sure it was meant to be locked… In fact, he was sure he had seen JJ lock it earlier, when he’d been setting up.

Olivia always had been the most resourceful of them.

His beer sloshed over the side of his cup a little as he dropped into the seat next to her, splashing his hand. She eyed him with a teasing smirk as he wiped it on the couch cushion. “Shh,” he stage-whispered. “Our secret.”

“Not much of a secret,” she shrugged, dipping her head back against the couch and inhaling deeply. “Whole place smells like beer. Stale.”

They traded barbs about the merits and drawbacks of each other’s vices, and she shit-talked his performance on the field in the previous night’s game. She was always brutally honest, and it was something Asher admired. Probably the thing he liked most about her, other than her eyes.

“Flatterer,” she giggled, batting her lashes at him. Things had been foggy for him. Had he spoken out loud? Shit. He hadn’t meant to. He was pretty sure that was inappropriate, considering he was flirting with her best friend not more than an hour ago. And over the last few weeks. And he’d just asked her out after the game, planning a date for the upcoming weekend.

Olivia scowled, shoving a throw pillow in his face, nearly knocking his beer into his lap. “You’re thinking too loudly.”

“Am I?” Asher chuckled, tossing it right back. He leaned forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You sure that’s not just the voices in your head?”

“Nah,” she grinned, and in the low light it was almost blinding. The colourful lights from the arcade console danced and glittered across her skin. She tapped at her right temple. “It’s pretty lonely up here.”

“What a tragedy.” His voice was low, but high in sarcasm, mocking. “I guess that means that party’s over, huh?”

Olivia snorted. “You gonna make me go home?” An unimpressed click of her tongue. “Bet Jordan asked you to.”

“Maybe,” he nodded, and let the grin fighting it’s way to surface bloom on his lips. It was always easy with her. “He’s being kind of a buzzkill tonight.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, tilting her head to look at him from the corner of her eye. Assessing. “It’s alright. There’s always the next adventure.” It was her turn to stage-whisper, leaning forward to match his hunch. The posture, the choice of words…

For a moment, he felt all of ten years old again, crouched in the Baker tree house with two water guns and a tub of water balloons between them. Plotting their attack on Jordan when he got home from grocery shopping with Mrs. B.

He’d never been able to look away from her eyes then, either.

“Life’s pretty boring without adventure,” he said, so low he was sure she’d miss it. But he saw the whites of her eyes and heard the sharp inhale that told him she didn’t.

So he kissed her.

Counted to ten.

Waited to get punched, same as he had when they were kids.

Only he didn’t, and instead Olivia pulled away with a gasp, lips parted and jaw slack.  Her voice barely a whisper when she’d said: “We shouldn’t.”

He damn well knew that. His best friend’s sister? She’d always been off limits. But he wanted to. God, did he want to.

“I know,” he whispered back.

Olivia’s smile was as bright as the morning sun, and as dangerous as the high tide as she leaned forward. It threatened to swallow him whole. “Our secret,” she said against his lips.

* * *

A buzz draws Asher from the ghosts in his own head, drawing him back into he present. Where he’s lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and counting swirl patterns to try and distract himself from the whispers of skin and the taste of cherries.

He realizes on the second buzz that it’s his phone, tucked halfway beneath his pillow. He reaches for it, holding it above him.

 _Text from O, 3:23 PM  
_ _Why?_

He sits up abruptly.

Asher hadn’t been expecting an answer from her. He hadn’t been expecting anything, anymore. Not since she’d cut them all out and walked away from them, weeks before rehab. From him and Layla and even Jordan. Their little quarter that had always seemed so tight-knit and unbreakable.

But he supposes that’s what happened when you broke the rules. Your broke your friendships, too.

He debates not answering her. It’s not like she’d push the issue or chase after him. That’s never been her style.

Asher, on the other hand, has never been good at holding the line.

 _Text to O, 3:25 PM  
_ _it’s important_

He waits five minutes, chewing on his bottom lip and staring at the bottom of their text conversation. As if his mere willpower could cause the three little dots to appear.

When it doesn’t, he types out a second text.

 _Text to O, 3:26 PM  
_ _about L_

He knows it’s a low blow, but he’s teetering on the edge of desperate. The dots appear almost instantly, and the buzz comes a few breaths later. If he hadn’t been holding it, anyway.

 _Text from O, 3:27 PM  
_ _Down the block from the park, by Mrs. Hernandez. 15._

Asher shakes his head, chuckling. Their old nanny’s, really? It’ll take him less than five. But he figures she’s probably walking, so it makes sense.

He’s out the door three minutes later. He’s jittery, keys jingling restlessly in his hand on the way to the car. He has no idea what he’s going to say to her. He knows they should talk about that night, about what happened between them. She’d shut them all out soon after it had happened, and gotten herself busted and checked into rehab so fast that he hadn’t had the chance.

And when she’d come out, she hadn’t been interested in speaking to any of them. About anything.

Olivia had taken one look at them across the courtyard, his arm around Layla’s shoulders and Jordan thumping him in the chest as he laughed at one of Asher’s shitty jokes—and walked in the opposite direction, never once looking over her shoulder.

He just wants to know why.

He wants to know what he’s supposed to do, because his girlfriend is slipping away from him and constantly flirting with another guy, and he doesn’t know how to stop it without breaking teeth. Because he’s angry all the time about his dad and his mom and not measuring up, and the one person who sort of understood pushed him away. Because he saw her in that silver and black dress at the gala the other night, and all he could picture was the one she wore the night of JJ’s party, and what it looked like in a puddle on the floor.

So Asher clambers into his car, brings the engine to life, and peels out of his driveway in search of Olivia Baker and his answers.


End file.
